My Darling Family
by aBeautifulWorld
Summary: "Golly, sometimes it's just so hard to do things when you don't have fingers, you know?" An insight on the events leading up to and presented in the game. A conversation between Garry and the blue dolls, a little girl exploring her father's territory and a painter who fancies himself a creator. Mostly canon, mostly.
1. My Darling Dolly

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner, Kouri; I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

**AN:** Hi C: So this was another prompt submitted on tumblr and I wanted to try this out before working on my other bigger projects, a warm up in a way. It is rated T for implied stuff but rather tame overall. Happy reading x

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**My Darling Dolly**

They went on and on. Garry hadn't felt such an overwhelming sense of peace in a long time. He glanced shyly at the blue felt, at their red beady eyes and fluffy braided hair. They were really kind to stay with him until Mother finally remembered to come to pick him up. He couldn't remember the last time a friend did that for him.

He couldn't remember the last time he had a friend.

"Honestly though— dogs playing poker! It's so silly!"

He burst into giggles as the little doll continued their story. "That... so...?" he barely choked out. Garry took in another deep breath, trying to control his ragged breathing. His sides were starting to hurt.

When was the last time he laughed without restraint like this?

When was... what time is it?

"Golly, sometimes it's just so hard to do things when you don't have fingers, you know?"

"Ahahaha... oh, sure. Sometimes... yeah, yeah..."

He knew. Of course he knew. He had tried cooking meals for Mother with bandages wound around his hands, sewing and mending his own worn out uniforms. Life was a little hard when he was both parent and child; it was even harder when he was hurt.

His hands were very important to him.

"I like your hair, friend." The doll with the pink dress ruffled their braids with stumpy paws and tilted their head at him, wide grin ever present. Their voice was so soft and warm, just like them, and so different compared to Mother's harsh gravelly monotone on most days. "It's purple and pretty. The tops are even a different colour!"

Mother didn't agree, of course. In an act of rare disobedience, he didn't mind her disapproval. He just wanted to bring colour back to his world. He was only a child.

The grown man nodded, twirling the soft locks proudly. "Don't see that every day, right? I just ran out, you see..."

The wide grin tore the stitches of their mouths, mimicking laughter, revealing a bloody, gooey mess of paint and felt. He jumped at the sudden cacophony of high pitched giggling, his ears ringing from the sound. "So it was a mistake? And yet you like it? Hey, hey friend, does dying take a long time?"

"Oh I really love it," He rubbed his sore ears, feeling a headache coming on. "But it does take a while for sure."

"I love playing with hair."

He beamed at his little friend. "Oh, you do too? Why, we certainly do get along, don't we?"

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Garry heard the door creak open.

The doll bobbed its head up and down and Garry let out another chuckle, happy to find a person who didn't look at him funny or sneer in disgust. He reached out and gently patted the tiny creature's head, amazed at how coarse it was. Their bright red eyes peeked at him under the jagged fringe and the two blue paws tapped affectionately on his wrist.

He took his hand away and sighed, suddenly drained and exhausted. When was Mother coming? The doll tilted their head in concern and waved at him, their silvery voice laced with concern. "What's the matter?"

He blinked, shaking his head. "It's nothing, I'm just tired. You're really quite entertaining you know that? I feel like I could talk to you about my every worry."

The weight of a hand and a nudge to his shoulder didn't register.

His heart hurt.

"You sure can! We'll always be buddies, right? Right, right?"

He burst out into another round of guffawing, pounding his fist against the sharp pain in his chest. The little doll waved its arms around frantically, catching his attention. "Say, friend. Have you ever tried Galette des Rois? Or played the game?"

Garry took in yet another deep breath before finally settling down, wiping away tears. "What game would that be?"

"The happiness game!"

"Huh! Never heard that before... can you give me the details?"

"A Galette des Rois is a cake that has a coin in it! And if you eat the slice with the coin in it, you'll be a happy person! I've played it loads before but... well... it's kind of embarrassing. Will you promise not to tell?"

He gave them an exaggerated wink. "No, no, I won't tell anyone! Your secret's safe with me!"

"Really? Well... I've never gotten the coin even once!" He nodded his head in sympathy. The little doll seemed to look around the room before gesturing him closer to her. The coast was clear, apparently. "Want to know something weird though?"

His eyes widened in excitement. He fervently nodded.

"There was one time where one of my friends got the slice with the coin in it... and my other friend _cut her stomach open_ with a _palette knife_."

Garry gasped dramatically. "What? I don't believe it!" The little doll sadly nodded her head as he continued nervously shaking his head, eyes unfocussed. He finally turned back to the doll. "Really? Are you for real?"

"Yeah, how mean, right? Just coz she got jealous! And then that friend decided to poke around in her stomach too, taking back the coin..." They shook their head sadly. "Although, now I kind of remember it was a funny looking sort of— Hey, are you okay? Why do you look so white?"

Garry was desperately trying to not be sick, teeth clenched from the effort. "...Because that's disgusting! Who'd do that to a girl? If I saw that happening, I'd tell them off for sure!"

Tell them off... for cutting a person's stomach open...

An image of a collapsed woman filled his mind and he almost gagged again from the lingering scent of metallic red paint. He looked up to the little doll rolling and squealing with delight, excitedly clapping their paws together. The pain in his chest bloomed again and the young man wobbled a little. He supported himself with one hand behind him and placed the other over his heart.

"You're so nice, friend." The doll finally sat up in their place again, their head bowed down. "The poor girl walks around with an open stomach now, so it's really yuck, but no one can really help her 'coz she don't want anyone to find her. I ain't seen her around in a while, which is really sad. I always feel troubled when I think about her. Maybe it was _my_ fault. I could have helped or something."

"Troubled? I know the feeling, you just feel helpless sometimes." He was helpless to help a woman who wouldn't put the kitchen knife down, helpless because he couldn't the perfect son that she always wanted, helpless because it was too late to be sentimental over a woman who unintentionally destroyed his childhood... because she was already long gone. "You know you can't run away from the problem, but nothing goes well either... I wonder why?"

He sighed.

Being an adult was pretty hard.

"So I just don't think about her and that's pretty easy coz I rarely see her."

He blinked at the simplicity of the solution.

"Yeah, that works too. It's nice to not have to think... just forgetting the bad things." Hysterical laughter suddenly bubbled up inside him and Garry clutched his sides, tears blurring his vision and he could hear nothing but the sound of his hoarse voice. "Oh yes, I'm with you there!"

In the haze of his mind, the twittering conversation of two little girls did not reach him, for all he could see was the cute little doll in the pink dress. The two of them could just sit on the carpet and chat in this room. They were his darling dolly company, sharing both joys and fears in times of loneliness. No, he wouldn't ever be lonely again.

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**AN: **I'm not entirely pleased with this, although I'm not sure why. I wanted to try the "unreliable narrator" kind of thing but I am not sure if it really worked :/ OrmaybeIamjustgettingrustyhmmmmm. Anyways, I will leave this up here so please tell me what you think C: Take care x


	2. My Darling Mommy

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner, Kouri; I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

**AN:** Hi C: There'll be another two coming in the next few days, so please enjoy these small side projects whilst waiting for me to tame the beast that is The Music Box (also coming... one of these days...) This takes place before My Darling Dolly. Happy reading x

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**My Darling Mommy**

Mary raced down the hallways, waving to each of her family members as she passed by their portraits. Banging open the doors connecting the purple hallways to the brown, the little girl halted in her path. Looking around the box-filled room, she grinned and carried on, holding back laughter as she sprinted up the steps to meet one of her dearest friends.

Her loud tuneless song echoed through the walls, breaths coming in at ragged intervals from all her physical exertions. The blue doll in her hand swung violently, but their smile was ever present. She stroked the frame of Fallen Star lovingly and waved excitedly as she saw the darling Clown painting.

"Harley!" She hollered, her energy reserves boundless, "Harley, guess what?"

The clown's blue lips curled upwards and their glossy eyes widened as large as saucers.

"Big sis—" she gasped, finally skidding to a stop at the stair landing, right in front of the white face. "—Read me a new book today! About a mommy and their little girl and—" She took in another deep breath, "You know what she told me?"

Black eyes narrowed just a fraction in curiosity. Mary scooted a little closer and glanced back behind her shoulders to make sure they were alone.

"There's an actual working clock in this world, _and _according to big sis, tomorrow's her birthday! Can you believe that, it's the day she came to life! It's gonna be so great!"

Their mouth widened in a frighteningly large smile.

"So I was thinking, just like how the little girl in the story gives her mom a birthday present, what if _I _do the same thing for big sis? I mean," Mary tucked a curly blonde strand back behind her ear. "We're family. And families do these sorts of things, right?"

She took a step back and twirled, the rush of excitement making her giddy and light-headed. She pressed her back against the brown wallpaper and giggled, struggling to find her balance.

"She would be so pleased, just like in the book, and maybe I'll get another kiss on the cheek again. And maybe, just maybe..." Her knees buckled under her and she slid down, "Maybe she'll tell me more about that door... the one that's always locked."

The blue doll beside her, dressed in bright pink, nudged her thigh. Mary suddenly shivered and a burning fire renewed itself in her eyes. She jumped up and rushed downstairs again, taking two steps at a time. "See you later, Harley! I'll go find stuff to make big sis' present from!"

The storeroom she had passed by was as unbearably and weirdly hot and sticky as ever. It was a strange change from the rest of the cool, dark world she was accustomed to. The little girl riffled through the open boxes before noticing and grinning at the statues against the walls.

"Do you wanna help?"

As always, their long hands gave her a dismissive wave.

Mary harrumphed at their typical response and turned back to the doll in her hand. The tiny creature turned to her too and their stitched mouth almost tore at the bright large smile, their head cocked to the side. "Don't worry Kelly! We'll find some stuff... like..."

She turned her attention to the box nearest to the door. "There's lots of red paint. Red is big sis' favourite colour, and I know Harley likes them too. See? There's a big can and a little can, we can give some to her too."

Kelly the doll started shaking its head at first, before nodding vigorously.

"The little girl in the story made her mommy a card and a... was it a flower? It was! A... rose... just like this pretty one see?" Mary took out her delicate yellow rose briefly before pocketing it again. "Maybe I'll sew a red flower for her. That way it won't ever get dirty or broken."

Taking out the paint, Mary found some drawing paper just behind her, although they didn't seem very useful considering how wet they were.

"Should I use this paper for the card? Wait. What _should_ I draw on her card?" She stared at her doll for a moment before more ideas surged in. "Cake! And the all the other big sis! Flowers, books and lots of colours, of course! Everything she likes, especially..."

The little girl straightened up before marching to the only chair and canvas sheet in the room. She grabbed the pencil off the easel and pondered a little before trying to transfer the pictures in her mind onto the board. The end result seemed too hopeless and she sighed at the pitiful scribbling, annoyed that it wasn't as pretty as she wanted. "Something like this? No! I want it to be perfect..."

The doll whispered in her ear. She snapped, her cheeks burned in embarrassment.

"Shut up!"

She sniffed loudly and took the red paints, ignoring the blue doll with its head downcast and paws folded into its bright pink dress. "Come on, Mommy has a lot of work to do before she celebrates her big sis' birthday tomorrow, so you have to behave now, okay? Let's just go back to the sketchbook."

They hurried together, Mary throwing the small can of paint towards the Harlequin. The mouth stretched open as large at the portrait, engulfing the small can whole. Its features returned. The crunch of metal could be heard even after the little girl moved to the next hallway. She stopped and gasped at the lone box in the room.

"Oh, Kelly look! It's another one!"

Mary sprinted towards it, careful not to miss the only stepping stone for the dark chasm, only to stop as it suddenly lurched against the wall. Bashful Glance below her shyly blinked upwards, as she looked down and nodded at the green painting. "Do _you_ know what's inside the box?"

It simply averted and closed its eyes, hovering back to its original place after the little girl made it through safely. Mary placed Kelly gingerly down and took another step forward, eager to explore and yet... somehow scared to find out.

Watching the box for any more sudden movements, the little girl very gently pried the lid open with trembling hands. She gasped as the content of the box revealed another little blue doll, shivering with their stomach slashed open. A mess of blue felt, clumpy stuffing and gooey red paint lined the bottom of the cardboard. Mary almost gagged at the stench, tears filling her eyes.

"Oh... Carrie..." she cried, "Carrie? Is that you?"

The doll inside indignantly held a paw up against the sudden shadow. It hissed in recognition and scampered back, pressing itself against the corner of the fragile shelter. Kelly the doll jumped up from the floor to peer into the box, tilting its head towards their kin, their beady eyes rapidly blinking.

"Carrie...?" Mary tentatively reached out for her child, only to be snarled at, "Oh Carrie, does it hurt? I didn't mean for things to be like this! Why did it come true? It was only a story, I was only playing around!"

She hesitantly tried to get closer.

"Please, please come to mommy."

Carrie lunged at Mary's hand. She screamed as the needle like teeth of the doll slashed her skin open, the doll hanging onto her flesh. After several desperate attempts to shake the little one off, Mary grabbed it by the head and threw it back into the box. Kelly jumped on top of the lid and snapped it shut. She bounced a little as her old friend tried to push upwards, but soon gave up with Mary's injured hand adding weight.

Trying to control her heavy breathing, she watched the blue black ink spiral down her skin like a silky ribbon and spill against the cardboard. The wretched creature had sliced open her veins, but she did nothing to staunch the flow of her life-water, having never seen it before. No one had ever tried to hurt her before.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the gaping cuts pinched itself close until barely a hint of the previous injury remained. Even that soon went. Nothing tarnished her smooth porcelain skin. Mary's bottom lip quivered as she looked down at the box, a mixture of worry and anger drawn on her face.

"I was just trying to help!" she screamed, stumbling as she tried to get up. The little girl paused and stared at the doll right in front of her, listening to her silvery voice, noticing the way she gestured for them to move on, back to their home, back to the sketchbook.

"What do you mean... leave her...? No! No one wants to be alone Kelly, _no one_!"

"I just..." her voice broke and she gave up, bending down to gather the art materials that she had collected from the previous storeroom. She paid no more attention to the moving box, having no idea what to do, so she simply left the creature to drown in its own despair and misery, a feeling of betrayal welling up inside of her.

Mary stopped as it made a particularly loud thud against the wall, and she glanced back in sadness.

"I just wanted to help." She muttered softly.

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**AN: **Writing one sided dialogue is suffering orz I hope you liked it, so please tell me what you think C: Take care! x


	3. My Darling Daddy

**AN:** Hi! C: Yes, I am still alive and my exams have just finished. A *few days* huh? This piece takes place between Chapter 1 and chapter 2. The timeline's not important since it's more of a character study piece but. Well. *The more you know* Happy reading x

**P.S.** Try reading this with Old Doll (extended version on youtube) in the background uwu

**EDIT: **After a number of months, I finally noticed that this site screwed around with the formatting in this story. It's made of a number of segments but somehow ended up squished together *sigh*. Enjoy the proper style now. I need to fix Chapter 4 too.

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**My Darling Daddy**

To her, it was everything. To him, it was simply a game of cat and mouse.

He has to commend her effort though, her sheer willpower to continue after so long, after so many years. He has watched her turn to every resource available, using every means she can to either escape... or to find him.

Perhaps, he muses, to find him is her escape.

x

There is a door in the gallery that, no matter how many times she tried to open, refused to budge. Everything else was easily available to her. Staircases carved themselves out of walls, passages cut through the different areas if she so desired it. Everything seemed to love her and obey her.

Only this door was a hindrance.

Why was this one door in her sketchbook locked?

She had tried to question the others but no one gave a clear answer. Even after the loving and cheerful expression Lady in Red gave her during the small birthday party, she seemed to only ignore her. The other ladies were of no help.

She would keep the questions about the door quiet for now. Something else was puzzling her now, something that she could no longer ignore.

x

What was she to him? He wonders about that at times. The reason for her existence is now a blur as he struggles to grasp the wisps of his own elusive memories. Mary felt special, more so than his other works. Was she a replacement daughter, given her young age and the heavy burden that seem to weigh down his existence?

x

The Lady in Red sighed and simply shrugged her exposed shoulders, closing the book they had just finished reading.

"I think you should go play with the other ladies. I'm tired."

Mary frowned, unable to figure out why she wouldn't tell her. She adamantly stayed on the floor, her legs folded under her. "Big sis..."

"What is it?" Impatience echoed in her velvet like voice, her polished nails mutely tapping against the carpet. Mary scrambled back up to open the door to the library part of her sister's coloured zone, love and pity winning over her stubbornness. She hated watching the ladies struggle with the doorknobs.

The portrait replaced the book back into its shelf and made her way towards the door whilst the little girl rocked on her heels, unable to bear it.

"I've been trying to read more books, because it would make me smarter like you said. And since there are so many books here, I tried to pick one up from when I visited Mr. Juggler the other day. But..."

Lady in Red turned to her, eyes blank. "But?"

"I couldn't read anything."

Something hardened in her sister's typically elegant expression and Mary shrunk back. "You mean you've forgotten what I taught you?"

"No, I mean." she shifted, far too curious to stop, "Have you ever picked up and book and all the letters were just a blur to you?"

The Lady calmly crawled back towards the open door as daintily as she could, ignoring the calls of the girl closely following her.

"Well, have you?"

"If I'm too dizzy, sometimes."

"But nothing else was blurry! It was only that book!"

Mary stopped in fright when the painting turned back to her, eyes blazing in her famous violent temper. She trembled as the Lady in Red slowly held out her hand, long and sharp fingers stroking the young girl's soft cheek.

"I don't know what you _think_ you saw," her high voice suddenly softened and she tipped Mary's chin upwards, "But it was probably nothing, my dearest."

x

He briefly ponders if he was a sick man, if the little girl represented a desire similar to how the Painted Ladies represented his interpretation of disgust. He brushes it off though, as her behaviour resembles nothing of that sort.

She flitted like a caged bird, looking at this and that. She may be content with the small amusements he sent her way for now, but she has already started looking up towards the sky. He would never allow it of course, for how could she fly when her wings were already irrevocably broken?

He was a sick man in another sort, of course, but he tried not to dwell on that.

x

"I don't get it, Mr. Juggler," She held the book up to him. "What do you see?"

The man inside the painting simply grunted as he continued his craft in an endless cycle, barely even looking at the book in question. Mary puffed her cheeks in frustration and stomped her feet.

"Have you asked the old fisherman? He's smarter than I am, lass."

"I did, but he wouldn't tell me! Big sis went all weird too."

Another grunt was sent her way and she stepped back, looking towards the other paintings. Those with eyes avoided hers. She felt like crying. Desperation was quickly setting in and Mary had never been patient.

x

He can feel a wry sense of amusement in watching her struggle, the edges tinged with pity. She was persistent, and he was proud. However, there are things that he knows that she simply doesn't, and he has an obligation to protect this... _child... _from harm.

There is so much that can harm her, why did she not see that?

Even if he had to take desperate measures, she would not be leaving as she believed she could. He may not be strong enough to keep people from leaving an impression on his world, but he could at least keep his works from escaping.

There are simply lines that cannot be crossed.

x

Mary collapsed onto the ground of her room and tears welled in her azure eyes. "I don't get it," she cried helplessly as she stared at the words, tears further blocking her vision, "Why can't I read it?"

The big blue dolls tilted their heads at her. _"Maybe—"_

"I haven't forgotten!" She screamed, unable to bear it. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I know how to read, I—"

Her words fell short as a blinding pain cursed her temples and she crumpled to the ground, "It hurts." She cried, her vision blurring from tears. "I'm scared! Help me, please!"

Mary rolled to the other side and gasped, finding a long mannequin head staring blankly at her. "Please. Please, it hurts _so much. _Big sis! Kelly! _Dad! Daddy, please!_"

She crawled along the floor, unable to bear it. In the blink of a moment, she collapsed and her world turned dark.

x

Yes, he was her father, he understands that clearly now.

But she was not his daughter.

He created her from midnight oil and shattered dreams. She was a catharsis from the hell he had lived and now he is her saving grace from the demonic world he had unwittingly produced. He would still protect her though, in any way possible.

She was never meant for the world outside her cage.

She will never know that she herself is broken beyond repair, beyond hope.

He was the God of her world even if there is a special place in hell reserved for him one day. Until the gallery burned to ashes and his spirited works are all destroyed, he would play. From the Painted Ladies to the statues to Mary and her own strange works. They will all suffer with him.

As for Mary's independent will, it just made things more interesting.

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**AN:** I prefer to paint Weiss Guertena in a more benevolent light, but I once read a theory on tumblr about how he could be playing with Mary's mind as well as the rest of his territory and I thought it would be a fun experiment to try _Twisted!Guertena. _I do hope it worked lol. I am getting rusty. I shall post the final (half-finished at this point, don't worry) chapter in 4 days. My laptop needs repairs. Take care everyone! x


	4. My Darling Family

**AN:** Hi C: This took way longer than it was supposed to. A prompt requested by Emerial! (sorry it took so long, friend, and I hope I gave your ideas justce lol). And so we have reached the conclusion. This is in its own separate universe, don't worry about timelines.

Happy reading x

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**My Darling Family**

'So this is it', he lamented. 'This is how it ends.'

There was a hurricane of emotions in his chest; there was so much more he still wanted to do in life. He had never gone fishing with the old man in the early Sunday mornings and he wouldn't be able to make that birthday cheesecake for his mother. He wouldn't be able to travel the world as he always dreamed, to explore and discover its beauty. Most of all, he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Ib, to take her out for macarons.

His life resembled a string of broken promises.

He swore to protect one child only to surrender to another. He lost his reason inside this mayhem of colours and discovered the truth too late to be able to live it.

This was his legacy.

A child gripped the fringes of his coat with a death-grip, her eyes were screaming for him to rise.

He had let her down hadn't he?

How disgraceful.

But he was exhausted; there wasn't much he could do. It was his own silence that killed him inside, the inability to express his gratitude and happiness, grief and apologies. He was unable to do anything for her, unable to even comfort her during his final moment. Everything was so heavy. Everything was hazy, a dreamy quality to its edges.

_"Garry?"_

He wanted to cry at the sound of her voice, but he could only curl the ends of his lips together in what he hoped was a warm smile. She made it without him in the beginning; she would survive until the end... wouldn't she? She was intelligent and resourceful and so very wonderful. He could only allow his eyes to finally slip shut and let out his final breath.

X

It had a strangely nostalgic smell.

'Ah,' she mused, the scene familiar from her previous nightmares. 'I get it. This was all a bad dream.'

The little girl approached the bed and stared, her vision occasionally blurring from fatigue. Her fingers caressed the black silk sheets softly, comforted by its cool smoothness. She slipped off her shoes and climbed onto the diamond bed, slowly pulling the covers over herself.

The down was achingly soft. Perhaps only a moment or two would be alright. Sometimes all she had to do to wake up was to fall back asleep.

She had wondered how the statues started walking, how the paintings came out of their frames, how everything was so strange and odd and not at all how they usually were in real life.

But now she's found her answer.

Of course, this isn't even real.

And sometimes you can fall asleep in a dream and have another dream and wake up from that dream to return to your previous dream. Her brows knitted as she contemplated her current predicament. She would just have to try again.

The little girl nodded to herself despite the _wrongness_ that she felt, and she looked back and thought of the tall man she had come to regard as her own flesh and blood. She missed Garry an awful lot. He would be a lot more comfortable sleeping here with her instead of on the floor, wouldn't he?

He's only asleep.

He told her he would come running if she needed help so he's not actually...

She took a deep breath and lay down as the scent and warmth drowned her senses. It was father's cologne and mother's morning hug before she went off to work. She would soon see her mother and father again... wouldn't she? She'd play with her stuffed rabbits and be good for mother and eat her vegetables. She'd listen and do everything right, everything perfectly if she could just come back.

"_Happy birthday, Ib!"_

When she woke up, her mother and father would come to greet her and softly pat her head, just as they did on her birthday. She was completely and utterly drained. There wasn't an ounce of energy left within her to walk anymore.

The little girl recalled her precious memories and held onto them tightly until she fell asleep.

X

"So this is it," she softly mumbled, every fibre of her being trembling in anticipation. "I'm finally going to be free."

She had waited for so long for someone to come along and take her away. To have met those two, she thanked every star painted in the gallery. She loved Ib from the moment they bumped into each other and that attachment only grew as they spent time together. Garry was tall and weird but maybe if it was three instead of two, maybe she would have liked him better.

Mary crouched down and blew onto her hands, warming them gently. Her excitement made her giddy and giggly, but her palms were damp from sweat. She was so nervous, what would the world hold in store for her?

Just a little bit more and she would be leaving.

Oh the things she would do! The things she would eat! The people she would meet!

She continually glanced around the corner, waiting for the sound of running footsteps, or heavy breathing or the scuffling of feet as she had noticed Ib doing several times over. The child wiped her hands on her dress.

What was taking Ib so long?

She couldn't have... gotten hurt could she?

Mary shook her head at the thought; she had already made a personal request to the paintings and statues to leave the girl alone once she passed the sketchbook. Besides, the replicas of her family don't move in this strange area. She so badly wanted to look for her friend, but what if they came when she was gone and she would forever miss this chance?

Things had gone so terribly wrong last time... she had to wait for so long...

The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Mary gripped the ribbons decorating her collar and tugged, anxiety pulling at her nerves.

Ib, are you alright? Ib? Please be okay Ib.

She wouldn't want to stay with Garry would she?

Mary slumped down the wall. They were awfully close, and were together much longer than she and Garry were. What if she chose him over her? Garry had traded his flower so easily too... she was so jealous of how protective he was over her; would someone care for her like that on the other side of the glass too?

Ib, where are you?

Was she to search for the girl or to wait here?

She shivered, rubbing her hands again, hugging herself as she curled into a tiny ball. She was not used to this part of the gallery, having only found the entrance _once_ before. It was colder than the other coloured zones.

Was it darker than the others too?

Mary had never been too lonely with all her lovely famliy looking after her and playing with her, but something was so desolate about this place. Glancing down the long corridor and taking a glimpse of her Red sister, she sighed. Even the replicas provided no solace.

Was Ib coming? She really hoped so.

There was only so much she could take.

She couldn't wait to wait Ib's mom, no matter how strict she was and her dad sounded nice too. She couldn't wait for the warmth of the outside sun and the stars that supposedly came out to play at night. She had read and dreamt about them so much. She would learn to read even better and read all the books of the world, learn so much about everything. She would make friends and have tea parties and do all sorts of happy things friends did.

If only Ib came.

Mary looked up at the dark ceiling and let out a small whimper, the corner strangely stained in dark blue ink. "Ib, you are coming... aren't you?"

* * *

**AN:** That ending was not intentional, it was purely a spur of the moment thing ahhh I swear. It's late, I'm tired and I didn't read this over too many times. Please tell me if you spot any mistakes (in a _review _*hint hint*) and I shall correct them.

I am always sad when I finish a multi-chap work (lol I have only ever finished Eventualities but shh) but all good things must come to an end. This wasn't even an intentional multi-chap, but it flowed better as a complete piece. Please review if you liked My Darling Family or didn't like it (lol sorry) or have any other opinions. Thank you for reading! Take care x


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